


I Got Work to Do

by shesgottheknife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choking, Dean x Female Reader, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesgottheknife/pseuds/shesgottheknife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has stuff he needs to get done but you can't resist him and, naturally, he can't resist you. </p>
<p>Written for my bestie Edith for her birthday!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Got Work to Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annafalaxis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annafalaxis/gifts).



You can practically _feel_ the anger coming off of Dean as he returns to the bunker. It’s three a.m. but you know he won’t sleep - he doesn’t anymore. You get up, wrapping your robe around you, nodding at Sam as he walks past you, exhausted, to go try and get **some** sleep. Dean’s already digging through books, rushed. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice smaller than you had planned.

He looks up at you and nods, offering some semblance of a hello.

“Missed you…” You try to get him to talk, something else he doesn’t do much of anymore.

“Heard anything from Cas?” he asks.

“No… but why don’t you take a minute to come down.” You reach out to gently touch his left arm. 

He’s pissed as Hell, but he does as you ask, slamming the book shut. 

“You were gone for a long time, I really missed you…”

Dean sighs. “I know, babe, I just need to get this all over and done with.” He glances to the bag where you know he’s been carrying the First Blade.

“You can take it out on me,” you whisper.

“I don’t think you understand what it does to me.”

“I don’t think you understand what _you_ do to _me_.”

Dean pauses for a moment, eyes darting down the hallway Sam disappeared through. “I can’t right now… I got work to do.”

You give a heavy sigh. “Fine, suit yourself…” You head back towards Dean’s room, but you don’t make it very far before he’s running up behind you, pinning your back against the wall.

“You know I can’t resist you,” he growls, roughly slamming his lips against yours, a hand tangling in your hair. You clutch at his back, pulling at his jacket. Before you can protest, he’s lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he claws at the robe, tearing it off you and letting it pool on the floor by his feet.

Your thin night shorts are easily pushed out of the way by his impatient fingers, running up and down before sinking into your hot, wet entrance as his hungry lips continue to attack yours. He nips a trail down your neck as your hands run through his short hair.

“You were right,” he growls, breath hot against your neck. “It’s been too long.”

You hum happily in response, pushing your hips down onto his hands as best you can. “Please Dean… _please_.”

With a grunt, he pulls his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips, licking them clean with a grin. He balances you against the wall and his thigh as he unbuckles his belt, tearing it off with one swift motion before tossing it aside. You reach down to help unfasten his jeans, but he bats your hands away. “ _No_ ,” he growls.

You raise an eyebrow, but grin, “Yes, sir.”

He’s already fully hard when his hand frees his cock, “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Dean, I want you so bad,” you say, arching your hips trying to move towards him. “ _So bad_.”

With a deep growl, he’s pushing into you hard and fast, fingers digging into your hips as he does. You let out a yelp which turns into a moan as he keeps thrusting harder, faster. He moves one hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking your head to the side so he can scrape his teeth down your neck. 

Without warning, Dean pulls out of you, letting you drop to your feet on the floor. He grabs your hand and pushes you into your room, slamming the door shut behind him by what looked like telekinesis, but you can’t be sure.

Dean glares at you, hand wrapped around his dick, stroking slowly as he saunters towards you. He pushes you down with a hand in between your shoulder blades onto the bed. He leans over, his weight on top of you. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he says, straightening himself up, gripping your hips tightly before sliding in slowly.

You can’t help but moan loudly as he does. “Please… more... Dean…”

Dean picks up the pace, slamming into you over and over again. He grabs your hair, pulling you up roughly, wrapping the arm with the mark of Cain around you, holding you tightly against him. With the other hand, he lets go of your hair, and grabs your neck, squeezing _just enough_ to not actually restrict your breathing.

You give a small, tiny grunt, but lean back against him - which pisses him off and he pushes you back down, tossing you further onto the bed. He picks your hips up, pushing your head back down into the mattress before he thrusts in hard once more. His hands balls into a fist in your hair, yanking hard for leverage. 

Dean soon tires of this position as well and before you know it, he’s got you on your back, pinned down, both hands around your throat as he slams in somehow harder than he was before. You can hardly breathe as the pressure builds. 

He removes one hand from your throat, moving it to rub roughly over your clit, the added sensation sending you over the edge. Your back arches up as you try to cry out, voice dampened by the strong hand at your throat.

When he’s sure you’re done, he pulls up and tosses you onto the floor. “On your knees,” he commands. You do as he asks, body weak and shaky from the powerful orgasm moments before. “Make it good,” he growls, pushing his dick into your mouth.

You take him in, your throat sore and lick and suck, swallowing around his length as grips your hair hard, thrusting in and out. You know he’s almost there, one hand around the bit that won’t fit in your mouth, the other wrapped tight around the back of his thigh. Your hand snakes up to grip his ass, humming happily around him. It’s enough to send _him_ over the edge. He drops his head back and lets out a low, deep moan as he comes hard, holding your head still, his dick hitting the back of your throat. He finally slacks in his grip, letting you go as you cough and gasp for air. He looks down at you, grinning, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Thanks, doll,” he says. “Why don’t you go wash up, I got work to do.”


End file.
